For writers after some inspiration, give this 5 minute exercise a go.
Look around the room you are in right now and pick an object. Pick anything, it doesn’t really matter, but it works best with something that is always there, like a piece of furniture.
Got your object? – Don’t cheat and read ahead, thinking you’ll choose something once you know what the exercise is. (I suspect I would be guilty of this myself and, the problem is, I would then spend so long agonising over which object to pick that I’d never get writing!)
Here’s the exercise: Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write something, even if it’s just a single sentence, from the point of view of your chosen object, as though it were a person in the room.
Hints and Help
Writing in the first person will make it easier to jump into your object’s point of view.
Write about how your object feels or what it thinks. Is it a well-used, well-loved item? When was the last time it was touched or picked up? Does it feel neglected or is it broken?
Write about what the object ‘saw’ today. Maybe they were watching you doing something? Or did they witness something funny? Tragic? Exciting? Scandalous?
Don’t worry about creating a fully plotted story though. If a complete story emerges, brilliant, but this is not the aim. The aim is to use your imagination to access a viewpoint you might not normally utilise.
Here’s mine:
Object: Wool blanket on the sofa next to me.
“I don’t mind telling you, today’s been really boring. Seems like years since I went outside. Yes, I know, it was only on Sunday for the BBQ dinner. But the point is it feels like ages. I’ve scarcely been glanced at, let alone picked up or wrapped around her. And being piled up on top of you is straining my fibres something chronic. I can practically see the stretch marks. Hideous.”
This was written in five minutes, and I seem to have created a rather vain and attention-seeking character. In an effort to appease my blanket, I have featured them in the picture for this article, and hope that will cheer them up.
In all seriousness, though, in just five minutes I have a character voice, which I could develop and use in a longer piece. When I next need to conjure up a character like this, I have one ready and waiting.
What will you come up with? Let me know what your object is and post your piece, or a link to it, in the comments.
Happy writing.
Hi Rachel,
A friend recommended your website as I don’t know where to begin with writing. Your advice was really useful thanks. I got hooked on creating a character and slightly exceeded the 5min limit.
I look forward to reading more tips and advice in the future.
Here’s my effort…
Lord, I am knackered. It’s all down to an awful night. I was rudely awoken at 2am to the incoherent beat of her stilettos staggering up the stairs, along with the slightly steadier thud of a heavy boot. She’d brought another one back.
After a couple of minutes tickling the front door lock with her key, they finally stumbled in to the flat, a tangle of arms, legs, tongues and kebab.
Where would they go? The bed, the table, even the sodding wall? Of course not, oh no, they staggered across the room to the good ol’ dependable couch, falling on me with all the grace and finesse of a pair of moistened hippos.
I mean – at my age – my joints and feet really aren’t what they used to be; my arms are a bit loose and everything else is sadly sagging. In my prime I was treated with respect and civility. Reverence, even. There was a time when people weren’t allowed a coffee anywhere near my sumptuous fabric! Ah, those were the days.
Last night those little savages didn’t even put a towel on me. It’s simply a lack of respect, I mean Bill over there was made for that sort of behaviour, he has the space, the underpinnings and cushioning, the mattress cover. He was designed to take a good pounding. Not me.
Anyway, having finally finished fumbling around removing clothes they decided to embark on a two person groaning competition, it was like listening to the women’s final at Wimbledon. The fucking nerve of it, out of the three of us I was the only one who had any right to be groaning as a hairy arse was being pummelled against my already threadbare cushions.
Mercifully, what they lacked in audio self-awareness, he at least made up for in brevity and, thankfully, the deed was done. They flopped off my strained body and made their way over to Bill for a post-coital cuddle and kebab before promptly falling asleep. It transpired the snoring was almost as loud as the rutting.
And I was left there, deeply traumatised, with a decidedly damp cushion and another spring that had sprung. I mean come on guys, get a room. And that is the life of a studio apartment sofa.
Hi Lee,
What a hilarious piece, I loved this!
You created some excellent expressions, I particularly enjoyed the ‘tickling the front door lock’.
Your character voice is very strong too, the way the sofa describes itself is so brilliantly human that I felt like I could see its affronted expression at such scandalous goings on.
I was laughing out loud all the way through and I’m delighted the exercise worked so well for you.
Thanks very much for sharing this and I do hope I get to hear more of your work.